Gayfeather, colic-root, rattlesnake-master, blazing star,( devil's bite, Cahaba torch, prairie-pine,) I took your list to that fireworks store in Upland, gathered & checked off each rocket, then imagined how you'd stare at a forest fire (guilty? gleeful?) as I put them all back.
It's been my birthday, again. In my decrepit seclusion I've come to prefer my Kir royal with only a craven little American splash of cassis—a change in palate which must portend sinister action. This is the year I'll tear off someone's necklace & swallow their gems while staring them malevolently in the eyes.
blood, feet, surgery, house-razing
While cutting at my feet, my surgeon mentioned that her house had just burned. The details echoed, startlingly closely, those of the house-fire I narrowly escaped as a child, but I was too preoccupied with bleeding & being sympathetic to worry that I might be a carrier for a curse.
Image from page 21 of "Character and treatment of swamp or muck soils [microform]" (1909)
My album of the year so far is Moor Jewelry's True Opera. A way through useless bitter fugs of dread, over&over. Punk, I guess, jagged, I guess, but every instrument unavoidable & infinitely textured always like a comforting weight of sea-eroded concrete.
Scarp scree clatter. Register swerves, confusions of scale.
Within 30 miles of Philadelphia, because of a curse.
Une instance se voulant accueillante pour les personnes queers, féministes et anarchistes ainsi que pour leurs sympathisant·e·s. Nous sommes principalement francophones, mais vous êtes les bienvenu·e·s quelle que soit votre langue.
A welcoming instance for queer, feminist and anarchist people as well as their sympathizers. We are mainly French-speaking people, but you are welcome whatever your language might be.